


The Aches of Water and Fire

by aam5ever



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Drug Use, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21654409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aam5ever/pseuds/aam5ever
Summary: Jack, before he became one of the two adorning the Joker persona, Thought all he had to do was outlive. Bear it. Dull the ache and move on. As a result, he never found himself liking much of anything. That is, until he met Arthur.
Relationships: Arthur Fleck/Jack Napier, Joker x Joker - Relationship, Joker/Joker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	The Aches of Water and Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! It's time for my random fandom contribution! I hope you guys like it!

Jack didn’t like many things about the world he lived in. 

“You. You’re late from school again.” A big lumbering figure stuck there in the doorway. A sweaty, mean brow. Alcohol breath. Red, itchy eyes.    
  


This wasn’t an uncommon scene. Jack shrugged apathetically and shoved past the behemoth that kept him from the inside of the ratty old apartment. “Had a club.” It was that excuse, or some lazy variation of it, all the time, every single day he couldn’t stand to be back here. Back in this dump of a place with this dope of a father.

The consequences to his rudeness didn’t hit now, but they’d come later. He manages to escape to his room before his father can get too enraged by the sight of his hair he had been growing out or pin on his back he got from a friend. Too upset with how Jack looked, Jack talk, Jack walked, Jack  _ existed.  _ Yes, he managed to slip past all of that, dodge it like fine darts headed for their target, zooming in fast but always missing when he managed to slam the bedroom door on them. 

In truth, there was no club. There were no friends. There wasn’t a “meeting” or “road block” or “study group” or whatever excuse he managed to come up with. Every single one of those instances was a lie. People didn’t talk to him, he didn’t talk to people. They looked, stared, mocked, maybe called on him when they needed help on an equation in the advanced classes. That was the extent of it, because anything further would be being his friend, and he didn’t have those. As he lay down on his bed, he felt the day weigh on him like water soaked into his clothes. It was uncomfortable. He was uncomfortable. There was a leak in the ceiling again. 

A droplet from the growing water spot above fell directly on his forehead.  _ Water torture,  _ he thought to himself. Drop after drop came, and he let it. It didn’t bother him, not like there was much that  _ could  _ anymore. He knew that his life could change,  _ would  _ change, but the “when” factor was bothering him. The seconds ticked by. 

_ In three years. Three years, seven days, six hours, thirty four minutes, and two seconds I will be eighteen years old.  _

But it wasn’t close enough. The droplets continued to accumulate on his forehead, sometimes splashing into his eye and making him blink erratically. He breathed in deep when his father’s footsteps came close to the door, waiting, still and quiet. They were colossal steps, and the creak of the wood gave way to the sound of feet on tile instead. If he was in the kitchen, it meant more hard liquor, which meant just a little bit more before his father would be passed out and he could roam. 

His body forced itself to relax, but now the water was bothering him, just a little. Almost like an ache beginning in the front of his skull and going to the back. A wave of it passing through his head. Jack couldn’t be bothered to move, because moving would mean one of two things: He’d have to start his homework, or he’d have to take a nap. Neither of those things interested him. He just didn’t... like them. He didn’t like naps, or homework, or his father, or school. He couldn’t bring himself to pretend any one of those things resembled something that warmed him, because he didn’t. Perhaps the only thing he did like was fantasizing, daydreaming about the future that just couldn’t come fast enough. 

\---

The water finally stopped as he turned off the showerhead. Jack sighed deeply, moaning a little as he rolled his neck. It was a long work day at the plant, but thankfully they all got sent home early. Even if he was sent home a bit early, however, he did take an extra half an hour to come back so he could buy some flowers, rent a movie. He thought he wouldn’t be able to do something like this, but when the opportunity came, he took it with haste.   
  
_ Already a year...  _ Jack has never been in a relationship this long in his life. Women came and went, but he couldn’t latch, couldn’t be what his father wanted in the end at all. Instead he found his current boyfriend, Eric. Eric, the smooth talker. Eric, the man that’s easy on the eyes...

Jack’s blue eyes fall on the foggy bathroom mirror. The bruises are still purple, turning that sickly yellow at the edges. He reaches for the makeup, always kept on his left lower side of the sink cabinet.    
  
Eric, the heavy handed.

But that didn’t matter today. When Eric comes home, he has flowers and he reheated some of their leftovers from the night before. They do not have much money together, and while Jack would argue it was because of Eric’s way of squandering it on bets, he learned that it’s better to let things be by now. Even if they didn’t have much, he would make sure what they did have was enjoyed. This was love, right? Making it work? Making it better?

As he got changed into something comfortable yet presentable to greet his boyfriend, he practiced his smile in the mirror.  _ Down. Now up again. _ It took a lot to make Jack smile nowadays.  _ Down. Up, smile, both corners up _ . The therapist he saw said it had to do with an unhappy childhood. _ Up. Higher. Brighter.  _ Eric said it’s because he’s looking for that light in his life. 

Jack hoped, prayed he had found it in Eric. 

They didn’t even reach the dinner table.

“You keep questioning me, questioning me, questioning me. How about some questions for you, huh? You feelin’ nice and happy like you always are? Wipe that stupid  _ fake  _ smile off your fuckin’ face and look at me!”   
  
Jack backed up against the counter of the kitchen. Eric had come in in a sour mood. He was an hour late and undone completely. He smelled like Jack’s father. Sweaty brow. Alcohol breath. Red, itchy, angry eyes...

“Eric, you just need to sit down-”   
  
“Sit down? Sit down, huh. How about you smile for me baby? A real nice smile for me, that’ll make me feel good.”

“I- I, I  _ am  _ smiling-”   
  
“You know that’s not what im  _ fuckin’  _ talkin’ about!” He slams his fist against the fridge, causing it to rock so hard it nearly tips. Jack feels short of breath, and his heart nearly stops when he sees what suddenly caught his boyfriend’s eye. 

As he’s reaching, Jack is pleading for his life. “No, honey no, Eric,  _ Eric-”  _

The stars began to float in his vision from being slammed against one of the kitchen cabinet doors as Eric grabs him by the chin roughly, nails digging into his face and stinging. “I want a real smile. Let me put a  _ smile  _ on that face!”

Any of Jack’s pleading, his begging, his crying and screams, they all went unanswered. All he could do was flail and tense, try to kick Eric away only for him to be dragged down with him, basically falling into the knife at a point. It felt like it went on for hours and hours 

He couldn’t move after Eric had finished with him. Somewhere his mind knew he was on the kitchen floor, but his body couldn’t connect. The sound of the door slamming jolted him, but it didn’t do much else.  _ I don’t like him. I don’t like him, or this apartment, or myself or the walls or the floors or this city or anything.  _ Everything was burning and seething red, a fire, a flame that spread across his entire face, up the corners of his mouth and spread from his forehead, through his brain, to the back of his head. 

He had found his light. 

\---

Arthur watched as Jack looked out over the city. His purple jacket was billowing in the wind from being this high up in Gotham, the air crisp and cool from the approaching autumn. Whenever it got colder in Gotham, crime somehow seemed to hit harder. Mainly petty thieves and upticks in drug deals, however. All of those crimes that just made sure food was on the table. 

He took some steps forward, quiet enough, ignoring the ugly laughter he had worked to suppress inside of him itching to come out. Something about this felt tense, anxiety inducing just watching Jack look off like this. Perhaps it was because Jack didn’t come up here often? Or maybe because he had such a serious face on.

Then it hit him; Jack was still. He wasn’t shifting from foot to foot. He wasn’t slicking back his hair, licking his lips, rolling his shoulders... there was no movement in the man.

“You came up this high for a smoke?” He asked, his eyebrow quirking on its own. Jack seemed to jumpstart at the sudden words, and his turn was so quick that Arthur thought he had even surprised the man.

As fast as he seemed riled up, however, he calmed into his usual state of erraticisms and quirks. “View’s easy on the eyes. Good to get a feel for what you own, yknow?”   
  
Arthur settled himself next to the man, becoming much too aware of just how high the building really is. He takes a deeper breath to relax himself. Of all the things he has been told to help cope with his myriad of issues, that always seemed to be one of the few helpful things he retained. “Own? The city?” Looking out at the glittering building lights and neon didn’t feel much like ownership. If anything, it made him feel smaller than he was.   
  


It seemed like Jack thought differently. He threw his hands out, nearly hitting Arthur if he hadn’t flinched back. “Of course, the city! The tides are turning with everything we do. Your face is inspiring those who think they’re nothing to prove that they’re _ something.  _ Arthur, you are a leader. Something more than any of these miserable worms in their big offices can ever  _ dream  _ of becoming!”

While flattering, the title fits like a hat too big for his head. He wishes he didn’t have to wear it, sometimes. 

But looking at Jack now, he seems... excited. Exhilarated. One would even dare to say... happy. Arthur is eyeing Jack as he cackles a bit to himself over their triumphs. “You like what we’re doing a lot, don’t you?” The question slips out softly, as if said in wonder.    
  
Something about that question seemed to have struck a nerve. Jack sobers fast, face falling into an expression Arthur cannot even begin to read.  _ Do I? Is this something I... like?  _ After all he’s been through, after detesting every living creature and becoming detached from others... his light, it’s changed, hasn’t it? It burns bright and fiercely, but the hatred isn’t what’s driving it. Not fully. 

Arthur begins to fight back a twitch in his face, breath huffing out a ghost of a laugh at Jack. It doesn’t even earn him a glance, but Jack looks down as if weighing what he’s about to say before looking at Arthur again. Now something new was there, new and surprisingly nonthreatening. Under the makeup was the softest twinge of a genuine grin. 

“Yeah. Guess I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: aam5ever


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